Page 59 of Raven's Nest
He tossed the unit aside, settling in, again, as he lined up his first target. The rifle recoiled against his shoulder as he squeezed the trigger, punching a hole through the leading truck’s windshield. The truck veered sharply to the side, driving off the road and into the brush and debris piled on the edges. It bounced along, looking as if it might tip before the driver swerved in behind the other, kicking gravel into the air.
Zain chambered another round, landing his next shot firmly in the grill. The truck chugged, smoke pouring out of the hood before it pulled to the side, the other vehicle quickly taking its place.
The second hit obviously motivated whoever was driving the lead truck, that same hulking asshole from the first night lowering the window, then leaning out the side. He didn’t even aim, just started spraying the rear end with an entire mag until the thing just clicked.
The RV jerked, a whop-whop-whop sounding around them as the whole unit shimmied right. Rubber shot out the side, a few pieces kicking up onto the roof, blocking Zain’s view before they finally flew off the other side. Saylor held on, riding that ditch line for several seconds before she veered the motorhome back to the center. Slower than before, with the rig shaking left and right, but at least they were still moving.
Zain cycled another bullet, missing off to the side when the RV fishtailed left onto another service road, this one far rougher than the last, with dips and grooves that rolled him against the edge, then back into the array. He finally managed to wedge his foot against the side, got the rifle into position.
He waited, stock pressed against his shoulder, scope centered on the truck until that asshole slipped out again. A breath, an exhale, then that shot clipping the creep right in the shoulder. Knocking the weapon out of his hand. He flailed against the window frame, face twisted in pain before someone pulled him inside.
Zain didn’t waste another moment, just cycled the round and fired. Punched another hole in thewindshield. Likely hit the driver as the vehicle swerved sharply to the left, bounced down the side, hitting a large boulder before flipping up and over. It landed on the roof several feet off the road, black tires turning uselessly against the gray sky.
A horn blared in the distance, the sound fading as the RV raced along the gravel, an eerie calm settling around them.
Zain scanned the road, searching for that other truck when Saylor yelled something from inside, the words muffled beneath the crunching gravel and roaring wind. He slid toward the vent, slipped through and landed on the floor. Greer yanked him up and gave him a shove, pushing him halfway toward the front.
Saylor glanced at him when he moved in beside her, fingers white-knuckled around the wheel. “We’ve lost our brakes and there’s nowhere else to go but down this hill.”
Zain stared at the road. At the cliff looming in the distance. How the trail turned sharply to the left a few hundred yards down. “Just try to keep us in the middle until you get close, then veer right and do what you can to reduce the angle. With any luck this track levels out… Shit.”
That third truck.
Skidding around the bend. Racing toward them. No way for them to swerve around it with logs and boulders scattered on each side of the road. The damage to the motorhome already making every response sluggish.
Zain reached behind her — clipped in her seatbelt. “Aim for the flatbed and pray this whole rig doesn’t simply disintegrate.”
Saylor’s skin blanched. “And the cliff?”
“If we live through the collision? Same plan.” He turned. “Greer, buckle in. And if we end up going over…”
She merely nodded, clipping in Bucky, then claiming the seat next to him.
Zain grabbed the garbage can and launched it through the windshield. Glass shot out the front, that bin rolling off the hood and under the vehicle. The RV bounced over it, skidding it right before Saylor got it under control. He knocked away the remaining pieces, shouldering the rifle, again. “This is gonna be loud.”
He fired, trying to cripple the truck before they hit. His version of that game of chicken they’d played in the Zodiac. He hit the windshield and the grill, but the truck kept coming as some asshole returned fire, punching holes in the front end. Smoke poured up from the hood, the engine making an eerie whining noise, but the motorhome kept rolling, the sheer momentum carrying them along.
The driver must have realized they weren’t slowing down, veering right at the last moment. The RV struck the flatbed, crushing in the entire right side as the truck spun out — tumbled down the ditch. Saylor tried to stabilize everything, but the impact rocked the vehicle to the left, tipping it onto two wheels as it neared the edge, nothing but a few pieces of metal railing blocking the way.
They hit the far-left edge, flipping onto the side as itcontinued over the embankment. Branches clawed at the metal panels, sending the vehicle slightly left along a flatter section. Buck shouted in the background, rocks and trees grinding against the siding before the light cut off, the hum of the engine following them into the darkness.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Saylor.”
Saylor bolted awake, blinking in an effort to clear her vision. Zain slowly emerged from the blurriness; those amazing blue eyes focused on her.
He smiled. “That’s my girl. Do me a favor and try not to move.”
She frowned, her gaze finally adjusting to the low light — the cloud of dirt and smoke lingering in front of her. Waves crashed against the shoreline below, everything tilted off at a ninety-degree angle.
She swallowed, coughed, doing her best to take stock. “What…”
Zain maintained eye contact. “We didn’t quite make that turn.”
Creaks sounded around them, a loud screeching noise cutting above the other noises as the RV lurched a foot forward, jerking her against the seatbelt. Dirt sloughed away from the front end, falling a good fifty feet before splashing into the water.
“Greer?”
